The Howl of the Wolf
by Ireth-Tasartir
Summary: Harry, a nobleman to a small kingdom, encounters one night a young lady and love blooms, however her relation with one fantastic wolf and the very jealows moon will put their love at risk. Can love defeat the power of a goddess?
1. The Wolf

Pale rays flickered faintly through the pale mist which floated lazily over the awakening village. A scent of humidity could be sniffed in the air, increasing as the winter seemed to aproach with a cargo of white and cold presents. People walked back and forth, some mounted of old and tired horses, others dragging fiercely the stubborn donkeys and oxes and pulled their carts. Each villager paced, inmersed in their own thoughts, towards their destiny, towards their work places.

On the sky, covered with hazy clouds, the sun stretched, illuminating the green lands of the celtic north with a pale warmth which seemed to be unreachable. Strongly and fiercely did the moon deffend her position on the sky, and resisted the push of such strong oponent, not wanting to be retreated from the heights. She still mantained her pressence, although faint and fading, on the tops of heaven itself.

"There she is, envious and fighting to keep her control over her captured creatures!" commented one lady at the marketplace, while her hands squeezed tenderly one fleshy, bright and red tomato.

"Indeed this must be one precious one, for the Lady is keeping one long fight!" answered the shopkeeper, a plump woman who eyed the hand with mistrust.

One large, brown horse galloped, stomping the strong, black hooves on the ground. Moss was ripped cruelly from their roots, and muddy land was torn and left bleeding at the pace of the beast. The fibrous body rippled as each muscle moved to power the body forward. The glossy coat shone brighly, almost as if copper and gold built the beautiful body. It was a strong head, intelligent eyes, a gracious neck and elegant legs, as well as a slender and agile body. The animal responded with virtue and truth to the name of Stag, and as such he looked. He seemed to ignite the air with the flaming mane that set on fire when envious hands of light caressed it and brushed it.

On top of the beast was mounted a young man, on his early 20. He had a muscular body, trained with profuse exercise of a warrior and hunter, and was an expert jockey. He was dressed on a green tunic and leather pants, and light shoes to aid him on his ridding. His hair was the colour of night, splashed with luminous stars when the light reflected on its brilliance. He had well gained the nickname of Raven, but it was not his true name. His eyes were a pair of emeralds, green jewels that sparkled intelligence, courage and determination. His skin was pale, and his features were serious, reflection of pain and loneliness as nobody had ever known.

Shrieking with fear and running wildly before them was a doe, attempting to escape the cruel fangs of the predator that pursued her. Raven, the man, let loose the reins allowing the horse to increase speed. Gripping expertly with his legs, his hand reached out for the quiver. The bow was tensed, the features were tensed, and the tension itself was so thick that the female deer could barely rip through it. The man aimed and relaxed his fingers, opening the strong hand.

The arrow flew, whistling, sparkling with a murderous and unique fang. It tore through the air, breaking the silence, gashing open the tension, and splitting the fog. The deer shrieked nervously and flapped her ears when the howl of death reached her sensitive ears. Her eyes were wild, and her tounge lolled out between her teeth, and the slender legs made her jump in an attempt to evade the fatal shot.

Maybe it was destiny, maybe it was just the day, or had it been the fog, but the heaves had it that the arrow was to be evaded, and the head penetrated the hard bark of an alpine tree. Yellow amber, like gold leaked from the wound, and all sorts of insects fed on it, licking the sweet nectar.

Raven cursed, and in his fury he attempted to rip the arrow off its prison, yet only managed to break the wooden stick, hence recovering the eagle feathers that formed the tail. He kicked the animal's sides to urge him forward, and grabbed the reins once again to regain control over his horse. The doe seemed relieved, hence she didn't relax and continued her race with more vigor and strength than before. Before the young man was to regain his balance, the doe was out of reach, and faint blurr in the far depths.

He was not a man to give out easily, so redirecting the horse's paces, he galloped behind the moving bushes and the torn branches, and the gashes on the ground. He leapt clean over a moss covered log, and landed graciously on the humid ground. And the horse stopped dry, and reared up on his hands, and recoiled tossing his head with fear, and eyeing the ground with tremor. The man patted the neck of the creature and pulled on the rein to make him relax, sitting very straight he regained all control over the unpredictable animal. And then he saw the reason for his horror.

A wolf. Intelligent brown eyes observed the two creatures as if they were something she had never seen before. A sharp muzzle hid strong fangs and powerful jaws. The beast was covered with a sort of tan hair, bushy and fluffy, that made her look greater in size than what she really was. It was a silky fur, so bright it was misty in the morning light, yet it sparkled with the silver of the moon to whom she belonged.

The man was tempted to throw and arrow and return with such worthy price, for a wolf like this was very rare. He didn't, however, put his thoughts into practice, for his fascination for the wolf was such, he was unable to stop eyeing her. Their eyes crossed, venom green and wisdom brown, their strength was measured through their gaze. None moved, both too fascinated to even blink, and they secretly swore to find each other again. They didn't know why, but it was something they were urged to think and know.

The horse tossed his head, and neighed rather impatiently, stomping a hoof on the mossy floor. That startled the two creatures who tore the gaze apart, and lost their link from sight. Wolf looked at the vanishing moon, who had suddenly lost all the strength and was sucumbing to the fight. Eyeing the man for one last time, she retreated and vanished into the green depths, into the nature, fading and blending with it.

"Wait!" had called the man in a beautifully young voice, propper for an elf with such melodious tones.

But his yell was not to be answered, and the wolf was gone. But the man's heart was light, for he was sure that the animal who had captivated his heart was to be seen rather soon. He felt not disgusted for his thoughts, since his only intention was to admire the beauty of her being, and talk secrets with her under the stars.

Back in the village, a young woman dressed in peasant clothes reached one little table at the marketplace. On such table were placed all sorts of materials built and gotten from the goats and the sheep. Wool to be worked, virgin and fresh, or laboured clothes, milk and cheese, and various articles carved from the bones, like spoons, flutes and other items. The young girl smiled shyly, and lowered her head submissively, begging forgiveness as she approached the woman who was in charge of the shop.

She was pretty, but unoticeable under her clothes and her appereance. Her lips were fleshy and red like cherry, which played with a skin so rosy and pure like silk and snow, like the mist itself, and fresh like dew. Her hair was thick and bushy, and silky like velvet, a tan colour that floated hazily like a cloud. Her brown eyes were in an intelligence brighter than the sun, and they were proffound and deep like the secrets within night.

"Hermione! Late again? What do you do out there that keeps you from coming?" snarled an angered woman of a middle age.

"Sorry mother, it's just my walks are so precious that they distract me!" explained the young girl lowering her head even more, shy and ashamed.

"Well, then I will end up forbidding those walks if you are late once again. Now get to your work and start selling!" the woman growled eyeing the young girl, examining her with angered eyes that flashed in fury.

Hermione sighed and started her job, which consisted on attracting people to sell the material they owned. They didn't sell much however, hence the terrible mood of her mother, and the young woman could only find calm and peace on her daily walks through the humid lands of her kingdom.

Not long after there was a rather abrupt movement in the marketplace. Young women seemed altered, and their yells filled the air with joy and excitement. Hermione payed little attention for she knew the cause of their altered mood. They all retreated towards the other end of the street, where she supposed was the caused of all revolt.

The man called Raven by those who ignored his name was making an entrance in the village. Mounted on his horse, he pulled behind himself a fructiferous hunt, with two boars, a large stag and several birds, between those a large prey bird that was to become a decoration on the walls and shelves of his palace.

The girls yelled and extended their various charms to hook the young boy, and manage a date, or perhaps marriage with him. Some were thirsty for power and money, yet others were blinded by his looks, which were the most exuberant and noticeable in the whole town.

Other day the man would have made some steps with his horse, just to entertain the women that pursued him and, at the same time, just to show off a little before his friends. Today however, he chose not to dance with Stag, and urged the animal forward, towards his castle, where he viewed his closest future, and attemted to reach inmediatly.

Deceived at his departure, the women scattered and proceeded with their shopping and their doings. Some had just walked down in order of seeing him once again, but most had things to do before retreating into their living areas.

"Harry!" called a man with red hair from the door of his palace, waiving a hand vigorously in ways of salute.

"Ron!" called back the young man, Raven, waiving his hand, yet not far as vigorously, and rather weakly.

Before proceeding, we should mention that Harry is the son of a rather wealthy nobleman, Lord James Potter of Widgeton. His father was brutally killed in battlefield, being Harry just a baby. His mother, Lady Lillian Evans of Narwaryan, was a noble elven lady, of an extraordinary beauty, and such a noble character that made everyone love her. She chose to leave when, after her husband's death, his brother, Lord Jonas Potter of Widgeton, forced her to his pleasure.

Harry remained in the castle, in the care of a dear good friend of Lillian, one she had chosen herself to be the boy's godfather, Lord Sirius Black of Moorenyse. Lord Jonas was, gratefully, killed, found death after a hunt. People believe he fell off his horse, but the inhabitants of the castle know the elves doings in this event. Harry grew happy but lonely in a way, fresh in his memory the loss of his parents, and traumatized by the visions he had to support being just an infant.

But all was forgotten on this very day, by the sublime and blessed vision of a being of the very depths of magick itself.

"Geez Harry, sup? You look like you have inhaled the smoke of that herb that Sirius uses for relaxation!" Ron called, grabbing the reins and directing the horse towards the stalls.

"I have seen something so fantastic my friend, a vision like the heavens itself. Her intelligent, brown eyes, and her beautiful hairs was touched by the moon, for it floated like the clouds, in silky threads. We stared at each other, and I knew I had to see her again!" Harry explained, staring hazily into the distance, up the sky, and representing with profuse gesticulating the vision he had enjoyed.

"You have found a girl? Who is she then? You believe a wedding is to come?" bombarded Ron with a collection of excited questions.

"Relax my friend, I didn't say it was a woman, nor that I had romantic feelings involved!" Harry explained with an animated laughter, leaping off his horse, and patting the sweaty neck.

"Then what is she?" inquired the young man, rather nervous and slightly suspicious at the sanity of his friend.

"She is a wolf, the prettiest wolf I've ever seen, and her eyes were so human! I must see her again Ron, I will go tonight!" exclaimed the young nobleman, grasping his friend's shoulder, and smiling with a sublime look that was starry and hazy, and almost dreamy to a sane point.

"Harry, don't be stupid! That is a wolf you are speaking about, she will attack you!" the flaming haired boy barked, shaking his friend with vigor and strength in an attempt of pulling him out of his stupor.

"I know she won't! Trust me Ron, I'll go find her tonight!" Harry explained solemnly, placing a strong, determined hand on the man's shoulder.

Then, taking the animal's reins from Ron's hands, he dragged his horse into the stalls, to proceed into feeding him and cleaning him for his very own self.

Harry galloped on Stag's back with expert legs and graceful, back, as well as a gentle, but firm hand which directed power and control. His eyes scanned the hazy mista that seemed to float over the woodlands, gliding across the leaves like ethereal butterflies, swimming past the trunks like spiritual dolphins, misty snakes of uncorporeal matter sliethere under his feet. Stag snorted disgusted and nervous, and stomped lightly on the mossy grass, emmiting nothing but a numb silence, being absorved and drank the noise by the moss and the soft soils, thirsty of cachophony.

He saw that the moon, tired from her fight, had retreated to her bed, and her sleep was obvious in the brightness of the stars, which illuminated and vigilated each corner of the infinite for her. Their silent speech was to relate the tales of happenings in the world or mortals and inmortals, of phisical and ethereal, and all in general. Somewhat, Harry knew all mistycal eyes were placed on him, all glimmer of pale ice observed his motion, and all observant gaze examined with scrutinious search into the depths of his soul.

He kicked on his horse's sides, and urged him forward, yet holding a firm grip on the rein, in order to maintain him at a slow pace. And for long did he pace, but time seemed to had stopped as he penetrated deeper into the woodlands. The trees seemed to open and rise their tired and heavy branches up the air, in a way of clamor, oppening path towards some destiny Harry ignored. As a guide did the mist float before him, in the shapes of dolphins and mermaids, and serpents and manatees, and seals and all sorts of fish.

Then he saw the stars swimming in the depths of a mirror, and there, in the center of such crystal he saw the glorious vision that was to haunt him for eternity.

To Be Continued…

AN: Ok, introduction and boring first chapter, this wont be a long story, but I needed refreshing my mind from my most impressive one, THE WICCAN, I highly recommend it. Well, hope you like it.


	2. The Lady

Purpurrine seemed to float, engulfing and surounding the precious and slender figure. Sparkles of starry glimmer, of ethereal dust reflecting on the inexistent bodies of mermaids and faeries, which were created upon a reflection on the hazy and pale mist. Light and shadows seemed to play with every single inch of the magickal area, and the water, ondulating and shaking in faint and perfect waves, played and swam towards the creature.

Like a nymph she swam, and the waves of crystal fluid elevated her in a throne of ligth and magick, of perfection. And such perfection did she represent. Her skin was silver, touched by the tender hands of the stars, her babysitters, and engulfed in the hug of the mist that was always pressent in the little kingdom of the Celtic North. Her lips were cherry, and bloomed a crimson red, like roses with the velvety touch, but sweet and sour like blood itself, and that was to be discovered by Harry. Her hair fell wet against her humid back, but it was thick, and light like feathers, silky like threads of clouds. The colour was tan, a chestnut brown, but touched with the glimmer of night, as if the moon had chosen to touch this woman and mark her with the luminous trace of her rays. Her eyes were brown, so deep and proffound nobody could reflect on them. There was also a deep, deceived wisdom and intelligence in them, one that was unreachable for the most studious and oldest man of any kingdom. It was an intelligence that resided in the nature, not in the books and in the age.

He was surprised, but it was a short word for his fascination could not be described. He was absorved in her conjure, for she was a nymph, throwing out all her charms in order of capturing him into her knot. But he doesn't care, for the being is so glorious, the vision so sumblime. The feeling of his heart was so true and solemn that he knew, before speaking with such angelic creature that she was to be the woman with whom he married, like his father did to an elven maiden.

And then destiny had it that the girl saw the intruder into her secret area of peace, for her tortured heart and life could only be relaxed with the cold waters that massaged each muscle. Startled she gasped, and tried to turn around in unision, wanting to swim to shored and flee from the discovery of such man. Her bad luck had it that two actions done at once, inside the cold fluids of a pond, derivated only in disaster. A deep gulp of water penetrated her lungs as she inhaled, and the weeds of the depths, not wanting her to leave, wrapped her ankle with strong leaves and tight grip.

She vanished under the surface of the water, and no ethereal being did nothing to recover her, to aid her and save the feeble life that was of humans. Harry could not let destiny take away the treasure he had just found. He took off as many clothes as he considered disturbing and heavy to allow movility. Followed act he submerged himself into the lake, and scanned through the water in search of the nymph that was to be his wife.

Light rippled with the slithering of water, a luminity that was so bright it seemed decided to blind Harry, to keep him from saving the girl he had passionately admired since he first saw her. He played against the light and dived down. Taking a hold of the struggling body, he tore the algae that threatened to sink him down with the woman, and impulsed his body upwards.

The surface of the water broke in a million pieces of glass, minuscule diamonds that reflected the existent and nonexistent of the enviroment. The two beings emerged, Harry with the bare body of a woman on his arms. They layed down by the moss, the comfortable and soft bed of humid dew, which licked their skins in a thirsty search for more humidity.

Harry then saw that the girl was no nymph, but a mere human of an extraordinary beauty, and a magick hidden within her that was surprisingly real yet unreachable. She smiled pleased, and coughed down with violent stiffs, shaking and convulsing until she had vomited every drop of fluid tinted with the luminity of stars.

"My lord, thank you for saving me, and forgive my indecorous forms of being before your pressence!" the woman said attempting to cover her pudour with her very own body, while seeking for her misplaced clothes.

"My pleasure lady, but tell me what such beauty is doing outside in such a dark night?" inquired Harry rather concerned and startled at the pressence of a lady in the depths of the woodlands, in such hours of the night.

"A walk to clear my confused mind!" she explained bowing lightly, and smiling rather pleasantly.

"My name is Harry Potter of Widgeton, and who are you my noble lady?" inquired the charming man, gripping her slender and, he saw, hard and callous hand, and kissing the fingers tenderly.

"Hermione Granger, I am but a peasant, hence you are the lord of our land! Forgive my manners!" she said naturally agitated. "But that brings to me the question, if I am allowed, what is such a hight representation of the power doing out here in such a dark night?" inquired the woman with her natural courage and curiosity.

"Well, I went looking for a wolf!" Harry answered with a laugh that bloomed fresh and young, and animated, while his eyes sparkled under the blinding vision of her radiant beauty.

"A wolf! They are dangerous!" the young woman snapped, yet she was nervous and agitated, and stood up alarmed, "but that reminds me it is late, and I must go!" she finished shaking vigorously.

"Wait!" Harry said gripping her arm, and taking a hold of the light creature.

The girl turned around and eyed him with a fear that startled the young boy, a genuine fear for him, not from him, and fear for herself as well.

"I must go before she comes! And you shouldn't have come since you will get in problems!" the woman hissed in an alarmed whisper that was rushed and urged, wanting to make time as short as possible.

"Will I see you again?" inquired Harry with a lastimous and saddenened look that sombered his eyes with the shadow of deception.

"Don't doubt that!" Hermione finished, and smiled bright.

The she pressed her lips against his sour ones, and Harry received a kiss like not one before. It was fresh, like nature, and strong like wilderness, with a touch of humidity from the dew and the warm magick that bloomed in the depths of the ethereal.

And they parted, but not without promising each other that the very next night they were to meet here, in this exact point, to talk, to enjoy and to love each other until the very end of their fibers. Harry was not to know that this would be the greatest adventure of his life, for it had no belic forces, no wars and no swords, but the simple pressence of their hearts merging into one, and the secret of their relation as it had to be hidden.

Mischievous and silent, slippery like vipers, the stars twinkled in a laughter so loud that their light, for it could not be heard by mortal eyes, illuminated the sky like the sudden appereance of a lightning.They spoke, and they planned, and their innocent beauty was nothing but a disguise, for stars were not cruel, but they were not noble either, but a cocktel of both.

A few of them fell from the heavens, and entered the boundaries of the small, mortal world. They were tiny faeries, but unlike the ones that inhabited the woodlands and glowed like rainbows, this faeries were formed out of an igniting, icy pale light. The wings were tails of comets, and sparkled leaving a trail of celestial dust behind their path. They looked sublime, like blessed by the light of purity, and their beauty radiated, pouring out of them in a cascade of threads of light, so thin yet so bright, like a flaming silk.

They lit the woodlands, hidden in the shadows of its proffound depths, as their flight guided them towards one place, one more magnificent and incredible than the existance of the wonders of space. A cave, engulfed in a net of a thick foliage, one of the brightest green, covered in the most transparent dew, one that sparkled in an attempt of comparing itself with the small stars that had reached the mystical location.

The cave penetrated in the side of a tall, yet green mountain. It seemed to irradiate a pale, silvery glow, and the hazy mist that floated lazily around the entrance was tinted with the sparkling of ice, and tore the flesh with the cold fangs of winter. Diamonds of cold ice seemed to have trapped faeries within the depths of their cores, for the glitter and the glow was so intense it radiated a light only comparable to that of the sun.

The stars slipped through the gaps left between the leaves, and scurried within the depths of the cave. The glow now inside was such that the stars were just sparks of shadows, left somber and insignificant in the pressence of such grandiosity.

"Lady!" twinkled a star with a silent voice, a whisper blown with the wind, and decreased into the act of a twinkle.

A woman, young and pretty like no other was seen before, stood from her bed, built out of white owl feathers, fur of foxes and wolves, of the purest snow. Her hair slipped down her skin, caressing her back, engulfing her legs and curling around her ankles in a ticklish touch. They were threads of silvery light, for nothing material could be so luminous and ethereal. Her eyes were violet, like dawn, like an aurora borealis, and swinged in colours from a pale ice, to a silvery grey, yet always returning to the mild dawn that tinted them with passion and nobility, with calm and tranquility.

Her skin was pale, a block of ice, or cold marble had been sculped into the finest features. They were the gestures of a child, mild, sweet and gentle, with thick lips, and large eyes, and a small nose that curled upwardsinnocently. They were not the sharp features of an atractive woman, yet that gentleness in her face made her more delicious, more desirable and the more fantastic creature humanity had ever seen.

"What brings you here stars?" inquired the woman smiling sweetly, and gently at her people, making the silk tunic that engulfed her sway with the batting of her arms. Her arms moved like the swaying of a ray moon filtrating through the ceiling of leaves that crowned forests.

"My Lady!" said Orion standing forward, and bowing elegantly before the lady. "And incident has occurred my Lady!" he finished his speech, for stars never spoke for long, yet allowed others to continue their concise sentences.

"One of your Children was found!" Cassiopeia explained, gesticulating widely with the twinkled she irradiated.

"A man saw her and saved her from drowning!" Sirius barked with a bright light sparkling alarmed.

"And the woman returned him with a kiss, and a promise!" Pisces, the shyest of them all, said with a passion that characterise her personality, for she was dreamy, and sensitive.

"And which of my children dares to betray me?" inquired the Lady after a few minutes of considering the stars' words and explanations, and once she had united the whole story, and made it mildly coherent to her likes.

"Hermione, my Lady!" Draco, protector of dragons, explained with sharp, straight words that voted not for hurting, yet went straight to the point, for he ferviently believed that things had to be told without riddles.

"Then Hermione will come to me inmediatly, for I will not tolerate the treason and the lie in my nest!" the young woman said, standing up straight, and showing a magesty that was grandious, and a firm courage that was envious.

Harry woke up with a tired face, with various scratches from the invisible branches, and the pressence of two anthiesthetic black rings. Hence he was radiant with happiness, his face was luminous and his smile illuminated his pale skin. His green eyes seemed to flare with the pressence of a magick, one that had been hidden and trapped within the brilliant orbs. His joy was contagious, for as he trotted and danced agily across the corridors of his castle, servants and guards smiled authomatically and some even laughed with him, sharing the bliss of his happiness.

He slipped on the brightly polished, marble floor that formed the precious dinning room, and with grace he sat at his chair, erupting in a laughter so loud and sound that soon the pictures were laughing in unision with him. Hence, a pair of brown eyes, hidden beneath a flaming mop of wild hair stared with tremor and a slight confusion, as well as an amuse that was taking control of the body.

"What makes you so cheerful Harry? Did the wolf bite you in the funny bone?" Inquired Ron rather careful and hesitant around Harry, believing ferviently in the tale of wolfmen or werewolves, which's bite transmited the terrible curse.

"What makes me cherful is that I fell in love!" Harry explained, placing his feet rather undecorously on the table, and bitting an apple with feral hunger. There was a glint in his eye, a glint that sparkled like moon and stars, a sparkle of magick.

"You fell in love with the wolf?" inquired Ron startled, and a disbelieving look of fear crossed his eyes like a movie, and soon all the tales that his mother had once told him about damsels and wolves were written in his pale, freckled skin.

"Not the wolf!" Harry snapped with a cheerful laughter that brought spring to the cold, shady castle, "I couldn't find that beautiful wolf, but I found a lady like I've never seen one, her eyes were chestnut bright, her skin was pale like snow, and her hair was brown like nature." The young landlord explained with dreamy eyes, focused in the only image that brought him joy to the miserable life he lead.

Harry, moving like a stag, with agile and quick moves, leapt from his chair and grabbed his friend from the shoulders, such strength it became painful for the poor and startled Ron. The young man froze from surprise, and stared at Harry almost as if a demency had overcome his senses, "I tell you Ron, she is a nymph!" Harry finished, attempting to make his point clear, to picture the woman for his friend.

"Harry!" Ron said lastimously, once Harry had let go of him and had returned, more peacefully, to his breakfast, "Harry, nymphs are no good, magickal creatures only bring problems." Ron finished rather sadly, eyeing his friend with worry, his stomach constracting and becoming a minuscule gap in the pit of his insides.

"My mother was an elf, in case you forgot that!" Harry snapped furiously, turning around and clenching his fist so tightly his skin was white, and his eyes glinted like venom.

"And it brought only pain to your father and to yourself! She had to leave you just to return to her people, because she couldn't be here!" Ron said worriedly, staring at his friend with the love he felt for him, for he had always been like a brother and worry crushed his heart and froze his blood.

Harry turned around fuming, and left stomping towards the door. He stormed through the door and vanished into daylight, wanting to escape the words of truth his friend was speaking.

"Harry!" Ron yelled after him before he had vanished, "You will never be able to bring magick into humans!" he finished, hoping his words had reached Harry. Ron was never to know how deep this words had sank inside Harry's coherency, and how much that dagger was to make him bleed.

"Hermione, again late! I have warned you over and over, and you keep coming late! I will shut you at home at night, like a wild animal, so you don't run out any more!" the woman said, eyeing her daughter with anger, frustration, and determination that was well known to the young lady.

"No mother, don't do that!" Hermione yelled, feeling some sort of fear making her blood become sharp ice that tore her heart and her flesh. She had almost kneeled before the plump woman, yet kept her composture and integrity, and mantained it proud.

"Why wouldn't I?" inquired the woman angrily, narrowing her eyebrows and working a false smile when a possible buyer passed by.

"Because, in our miserable life, being out at night is the only thing that makes my life a living!" the young woman said sharp and concise, and stared at the woman defiantly, making her mother know that it was best not to contradict her wishes this time.

And her mother understood, but made her own deductions, one seemed promising, the other terrifying. One was encounters with a boy of her heart, while the other was the mistery of magick. And she feared all sort of magick, specially those that happened at night, for the creatures at night were cruel and fearsome.

The two women proceeded at their work, and they began selling and working on their items to make them of the greatest quality. Hermione lifted chestnut eyes when the hooves of a flaming horse stopped by her little working place. She was thrown back mentally when her eyes submerged in the bright green, and the luminosity of elven eyes.

"Is this cheese of quality?" inquired Harry not staring at Hermione, placing his eyes on the older woman.

But a gasp of the girl made Harry startle, and inmediatly his eyes directed towards her, dressed poorly and her hair bushy, covered in twigs and leaves. And he thought he knew her, even though a glimpse of her eyes was all he had gotten before she lowered her head to her doings.

"Do I know you?" he inquired hopefully, and attempted to make the woman look up, yet it was futile for her curiosity was not greater than her intelligence and cunning.

To Be Continued…

AN: Ok, it's advancing a little more, but I am starting to like this medieval thing, don't you? I believe it's quiet a change. Anyways, I recommend you read my other great work, The Wiccan. Please, read and review.


	3. The Howl

"This cheese is of the greatest quality, my lord!" the plump woman said respectfully, smiling falsely yet widely at the young Harry, and offering with her thick, rough hands the round cheese.

"Thank you, but I think I'll be coming later!" Harry snapped abruptly, staring at the woman as if he had just woken up there, and ignored the reasons why he was in such place, or even speaking with this shopkeeper.

Pulling Stag's left rein, he made the animal turn around, and, with a pressure of his heels, the animal was off at a slow trot, across the busy streets of the marketplace. Green eyes stared back, attempting hopelessly to steal a single glance from the precious being, hoping with all his might that his search had come to an end, and his land was to have heritage. That was the least important of his objectives, but he had found happiness, or so he hoped, and that was worth a thousand heirs.

"You called for me?" Hermione said in a shaky voice, looking down and avoiding staring at the brilliant figure before her.

"I did, Hermione!" the beautiful woman said, her voice a song, a flow of the wind, something ethereal, that could not be touched, and so faint it could not be heard, yet sensed in the depths of one's being.

"What did you want from me?" the girl inquired, kneeling, curved and looking down, and the glass that reflected herself, her eyes, deep and intelligent, her hair, bushy and silky, threads of tan clouds.

"I have heard of you granting your heart to a human!" the lady said in a voice that was not angered, only deceived.

"It is true I have fallen in love My Lady!" Hermione said resigned, for it was futile and dangerous to attempt at lying at someone who was a godess, "but please, do not harm him, for he is innocent!" Hermione plead, daring to stare at the woman.

"I won't harm him, because he doesn't know about our rules, Hermione, neither will I do any bad to you, my precious Hermione!" the lady began, yet it left a request hanging in the air, for nothing a God gives can be for free.

"What do you want from me?" the young woman, knowing the Lady, asked resigned, ina dull, tired voice.

"You can love him as much as you want, however at night, when I am high up in the sky, your heart belongs to me and only me, understood?" the Lady explained in a determined, loud voice that boomed like that thunder.

"I understand!" Hermione said in a slightly happier voice, relieved that se was allowed to sink to her human nature, and could love like any girl her age was supposed to do.

"If you are to receive one single kiss, love kiss, from him or any man that is to love you, when I'm high up in the sky, you will become a wolf forever!" the Lady told Hermione sharp and concise, it was a contract that could not be broken, or negotiated. It was her will, and as such it would be.

"I got it!" Hermione said with an strangled voice, for fear was stabbing her heart like a dagger or cruel, dented edges.

"Hermione, my child, do not try go to him, make him come to you!" the Lady said, engulfing the woman in luminous arms of ethereal light, silver skin which had taken the shape of slender, delicious arms.

"NO! That won't be fair for him! I will never make him come to this!" Hermione yelled angered, getting rid of the woman's grip, and staring at her with something close to alarm and frustration.

"Hermione, my child, don't you understand it is a gift what I have given to you? What you were granted with the day you were conceived?" the Lady explained, staring at the woman with kind, gentle eyes, and a warm, calid stare that pointed out she truly cared for the girl.

"GIFT? It's a CURSE! I can't love! I can't lead a normal life! I can't be human, nor wolf! THIS IS NO GIFT!" Hermione growled angrily, baring her fangs and snarling at the Lady, then looking down at herself lastimously.

Before the gentle Moon could react to the events, Hermione had stormed out of her lair, into the daylight, vanished in a wind of tan fur. As soon as the sun received her with the calid rays, and the warm light of gold had stolen streaks of flaming luminosity from her fur, Hermione became human in a blink. She didn't stop however, but ran as quickly as she could, escaping the cave that made her different, that made her life double, hence she could not lead a normal life, neither woman, neither wolf.

She sat before the lake and examined her reflection in the calm, crystal water. Her eyes, two proffound coals of a dark brown. Her hair framing the face tenderly with threads of tan silk. Her lips, fleshy and thick, a cherry treat of sweet gentleness and sour doubts. She was not ugly, but was not a beauty, perhaps because she looked like and was a peasant. Maybe it was because she was sad, desperate, and it reflected in her skin, in her face and features. Or perhaps it was because she was not whole, but two different halves merged in one, and due to that the features of one reflected on the other, making her different.

"I can see the eyes of the wolf!" she said sadly, staring with teary eyes into the water, seeing the surface ripple when her tear fused with the crystal clear water, that was sweet and fresh like snow.

"Hermione?" said a terribly familiar voice behind the young girl, one that showed confusion, yet delight at one, one that was startled yet cheerful at the same time.

She turned around quickly, startled and rather ashamed at her carelessness. How hadn't she heard the enormous beast that stood before her was a miracle, yet her sadness occupied the integrity of her mind, hence she could only think about the worry she was experiencing. But there he was, standing tall and proud, magestik, was Harry, mounting his horse with enormous grace, yet looking down with confusion and a very enormous happiness. His face was alit, it irradiated a light that could not be described, yet emanated a warmth that was contagious and flowed across the athmosphere, heating the cold evening.

"Harry!" the young girl snapped alarmed, and stared at the horse, attempting to see further away, into the heights of such beast to stare at the pretty face of her love.

"What are you doing here?" Harry exclaimed dismounting agily.

The horse, upon feeling the comfortable weight of security leave him, snorted and huffed, pawing on the ground nervously, and tossing the beautiful head. The halter and reins chimmed like minuscule bells, like faerie chatt, yet far less melodic, and more roughly and harshly. Those were sounds she was used to hearing, for she had owned an old mare of her property, and she had used reins and saddle as well.

"Why are you here?" Harry inquired once again, staring at the woman and extending the free hand, while the other took a firm grip on the animal's reins.

"I came for a walk!" Hermione said nervously, and hurriedly, her eyes leaving the contact with the green orbs and seeking the sky for the dangerous pressence.

"What makes you so agitated?" Harry asked again, staring at her, and retreated the hand that had been refused, making him feel empty and cold in a brief, slight trace.

"Harry, listen to me very clearly!" Hermione explained, staring sharply and determined at him, "I love you with all my heart Harry, but there are some things you must do for me if you love me back!" she finished very sharp and determined, concise and straight to the point.

"What are these?" he asked worriedly, staring at the woman strangely and concerned.

"First, don't ask questions. Second, I will belong to you, as long as the moon is not bright on the sky. Third, if the moon is to be high, don't come looking for me!" Hermione finished with a sigh, and her eyes stared at the man's confused expression, while her heart tore into million pieces.

"If you love me, do such!" Hermione said upon receiving silence.

Stag legs carried her off into the foliage, for the night was beginning to extend its veil across the world. The moon, activated by the call of the stars, leapt up high and flew into the sky, where it glided, vigilant, luminous and proud of the awe and poetry her mere pressence inspired. But for Harry, her pressence only derivated into sadness and hathred, and he cursed that who her mother once told must be worshipped as source of all magick.

The days that followed had been empty, and Harry had been mournful, sad and silent. There was an athmnosphere of depression, a sadness hanging thick in the air, and Harry, affected by elven blood, was pale and sick, and weak. His weakness was such that he had fallen off his horse, being Stag at a gentle trot. The animal had been startled, and frightened, and the state of guilt and nerves he was at made it hard for Ron to control him.

Harry had finally decided to lay in bed, waiting for his recovery. His eyes would always stare out at the sky, specially at night, when he would curse the moon for the terrible faith she had granted him.

"What makes you so thoughtful Harry?" Ron inquired one clear night, when the moon filtrated and sneaked past the open window, and caressed the pale face tenderly.

"Nothing, Ron, go and allow me some sleep!" Harry said in a weak voice, but one severe enough that it easily denoted his wish was to be complied.

Ron insisted no more, and turning around, he retired from the room, leaving Harry in his terrible pain. Ron sighed, and tears escaped his eyes, for he knew he had elven blood, and his crushed heart was killing him. The red haired man left to his chambers, and there he lied, in a restless sleep where dreams of lost and sadness, dreams where a wolf of ultimate beauty accompained by a nymph appeared.

A bark startled Harry, still glaring at the moon, stillplacing all his fury on the bright orb of ethereal light. One that was not familiar, but that made his heart light and bright. His weakness vanished inmediatly, and he found strength blooming in him as long as hope floewered into brightness, like the mischievous stars. He stood up from his bed and ran towards the window, poking his head out and investigating the outsides.

Fresh air slapped his face playfully, and the moon welcomed him outside with a hopeful tugging into his moral. Below his window Harry saw the maker of such gentle barks. The wolf he had met long ago called for him, urged him down, wagging the fluffy tail and smiling through her lips. There was a glint in her deep, brown eyes, one that was admiration, and the shadow always present of the moon's pressence.

Bare feet padded on the moist, cold grass. The threads of frozen ice broke under his weight, and stones and pieces of razor ice tore and slashed his flesh, oppening minuscule wounds and gashes that bled profusely. But Harry ignored such inconvenient, for the vision of his wolf filled him with a renewed life and joy, and urged him to go on with the life that was, slowly, consuming in his pain.

The wolf barked happily, and trotted happily to him. They both merged in a hug, Harry finding an incoherent comfort in the warmth of her fur, and the feeling of her intelligent eyes talking to him. The wolf lolled her tounge, and licked his cheek, happily, yet kept a vigilant eye on the treacherous moon.

However, the moon herself was satisfied with the wolf and the elven boy, for she did nothing but smile from the heights, and nod grattified. She was hopeful the wolf would drag Harry into the side of the moon, rather than leaving his half blood consuming him into a destiny that was expected for all humans. The moon was not cruel, nor evil or treacherous, but wanted the best for her children, like a mother to her child, althought, at times, this children ignore the good this orders contain.

"What brought you here Wolf? You remember me, don't you?" Harry asked, patting the wolf's side, and smiling widely at the beautiful creature.

"Come to the lake when the moon lays down!" the wolf seemed to say, in a voice that boomed within Harry's mind.

The boy was startled, and his eyes seeked within the creature, searching for any trace of humanity. However, he found so many traces of humanity laying latent in the wolf's depths, that Harry recoiled startled, and it almost seemed like speaking to a wolf was natural and normal. He remembered, however, he was half elf, and as such he must have inherited numerous virtues from his noble mother.

The wolf turned around and trotted off, back into the woodlands, vanishing like a spirit through the mist that floated lazily, engulfing the trunks and gliding past the leaves and branches. Harry saw her retreat with an anguish strangling him, yet a hope shone within his spirits, illuminating the whole area with the intense light he irradiated. And a smile like no other was curling his lips tenderly, mild but extremely obvious from the dream that sparkled in his expresion.

Stag galloped into the night, his coat blazing under the tender touch of the star's light. Mist oppened and parted in waves to allow the passage through the corridors it formed so delicately. The trees that towered grandious over them bowed at their path, allowing the intrusion into the lands without inquiries nor trials of any sort. Faeries accompained their journey, and creatures that could not be seen by day, or by human eyes appeared into the depths.

Harry saw wolves that were wolves, then were humans, then wolves again, as light touched them or somber shadows engulfed them. He saw birds that were lions, and flames that were birds, and horses made out of light and with horns sharp like swords. Slithering between the foliage were sinuous tails which ended in enormous, winged bodies of dragons. And all of this creatures had united in a reception of curious and concerned beings.

And there he saw her, creature beautiful over all others, smiling with a curve that was pure light, and shinning with the silver glow of the moon itself. The Lady had layed down a while ago, yet the argent glitter of her rays seemed to persist, inmersed within the skin of the beautiful girl.

Harry dismounted and approached the woman with a dreamy smile, and a hazy veil of fog that crossed his vision, focusing only on that which he wanted, ferviently, to see. And he hugged her without allowing any words interrupting their precious moment. Their mouths fused, the silk of her cherry lips against the rough salt of his own lips. Their passion ignited with the fire of true love, consuming their hearts, forging out of the ashes a single, stronger one that was to be shared by both. Both souls danced until melting within another, and they sealed a silent pact, one that was acorded only by the silence of their feelings.

"One intelligent idea, sending your wolf to guide me here, yet I wonder how you made her talk!" Harry commented, now thirsty of curiosity.

"All animals can be understood, yet by the ear that wants to listen!" Hermione responded with a luminous smile, and a glint of knowledge sparkling, like a star, within her eye.

"Hermione, why don't you want our love to ocur during moon rises? Are you a Witch?" Harry inquired concerned, eyeing the woman with curiosity.

"Harry, I said no questions, hence leave it that way!" Hermione said tersely, flinching at the questiong and avoiding eye contact with the green, elven eyes.

And although Harry's curiosity was great, a pang of concern, and the ice cold feeling of fear tore his skin with the cruel, bloodthirsty fangs. He eyed the young girl, seeing not a woman, but a creature of utmost beauty, one that, like himself, was the child born out of magick. A woman that was covered by a veil of darkness, as luminous as the moon herself, yet engulfing and protecting a secret that, wonderful like the miracle of life, was terrible and dangerous. It was a gift, and it was a curse, but Harry couldn't know, for he only deduced her hesitation, and ignoed the true nature of her fears.

Beautiful eyes the colour of ice, and such cold nature they hid within the transparent depths, for the bearer was a fierce warrior, like the dog his name represented. Yet, as such dog, he was loyal and faithful, and a friend like no other could exist. Black hair, wild and unruly, left to blend in with the rough fur of woodland canines, glowed with the silver blaze that only sun knew how to tear from such a midnight hair.

"My good Harry, what concerns you for I se trouble in your eyes, once so bright and now dull with worry!" inquired Lord Sirius Black of Moorenyse, eyeing his godson with worry and concern.

Harry layed on his matress, his green eyes attatched to the cold ceiling, which's grey stones seemed to have caught a valuable interest in his person. The nobleman knew well that the pressence of his Godfather had been impulsed by his loyal friend, Ron. He had noticed the worry the young redhead had felt lately, hence rushed to speak with the protector of the elven boy when he could pull no word from his lips. But I consider pointing out that Sirius was always worried for his godson, although matters of love long escaped his attention, and the boy had always been dark and misterious, so he didn't notice the dark veil that covered his soul with terrible worry.

"Sirius, I have been seeing a woman lately!" Harry snapped, concisely and straight to the point, and without entering in complicated explanation about the radiant beauty of her person.

"Those are wonderful news, what makes you so somber then?" inquired the noble Sirius, worried at what should have been a joyous declaration.

"She is beautiful, young and smart. But she does things that link her with my mother's world!" Harry explained, drowned in despair and worry, and a fear of loss that froze every single drop of his calid blood.

"What sort of things?" inquired Sirius, his voice trembling slightly, leaving a note of true worry hanging in the dense, afternoon athmosphere.

"She walks by night, and has told me our meetings can be always except on days of full moon, but she won't tell me her reasons!" Harry whinned deceived and greatly concerned, for he ignored what terrible being or event attached his loved one to the radiant moon.

"Then pursue her at night, and find out why she is binded to the moon in such tight chains!" Sirius explained wisely, and eyeing Harry with a glint in his eyes that showed complice and mischief.

"I just don't want to loose her to magick, like I lost my beloved mother!" Harry said lastimously, staring at Sirius with a saddened gaze.

"You won't!" Sirius said with a smile that denoted care and hope for the young Landlord.

Harry smiled radiantly, and thanked Sirius with the gentle expression of affection that seemed to warm his skin and bring colour to his face, while making his features tender and calid like a spring morning. While Sirius suspected Hermione a Witch, his godson knew well he could trust him, for secrets were to be kept, for his very own sake. The dog man had done such with his father, James, protecting the elven maiden that was his wife, and he protected the half elven Harry. Now he would protect the sorceress girl Harry had fallen in love with.

The coat of Stag blazed like an igniting coal under the touch of feeble, light rays that sneaked past the sky. Harry was concentrated in the figure before him, one that trotted like a doe, escaping through the foliage while she ignored her pursuer. She was agile and light like a vixen, and was careful and attentive, as well as silent like a wild cat. Hence all the attention she put in her escape to the depths of nowhere, the hunter Raven followed her on the backs of his altive stallion, at a pace that was natural and silent.

Hermione stopped at a clearing, and her eyes sparkled to the sky like millions of stars trapped in her humid cheeks. Salt flowed in liquid form down the streams of her face, following each gentle curve her terse skin formed. Her heart was crushed and tore, and a cold feeling filled her soul and froze her very blood. Her expression was sad, depressed, full of a despair that could not be healed with medicines or herbs, not even the powerful magick could do anything for her.

"Why are you doing this to me? I can't keep lying to him!" Hermione yelled at the wind, her voice a desperate scream strangled with sobs of her sadness.

The boy dismounted agily as soon as he perceived the terrible sadness that attacked the woman visiously, opening terrible gashes in her integrity. His eyes widdened lightly when the words reached his ears, but ignoring all advice, ignoring all the coherent words his mind spoke, Harry emerged from the protection of the thick foliage into the clearing.

"Hermione!" he called worried, running towards her.

The stunned woman had no time to react when the young man had engulfed her in a prottective hug. She tensed in his arms, and eyed the sky with fear, scanning it like a wild animal which has sensed danger, yet ignores the origin of his fears. She attempted to pull away, but was frozen by the surprise, and melted in the calid, protective hug.

"Harry!" she snapped, recovering common sense, and waking up from the dream she had, momentarily, submerged in. "Harry, you can't be here, the moon will rise in brief moments!" Hermione called alarmed, in a terrified voice.

"Hermione, I am here with you, ok? You can trust me, nothing will happen to you!" Harry said desperately, eyeing her with green, elven eyes full of love and admiration.

"No Harry, you don't understand it, the consequences will be terrible if the moon catches you here! Return to the village, I will see you when the moon goes to rest!" Hermione said, a weak, last attempt to make the boy leave the location, finding out her terrible secret, and endangering both.

Harry eyed her in a feeble attemp to convince her of his trust, yet gave in to the terror he found in the beautiful, brown eyes. Smiling, he did the only thing he should have never done, the only thing that lost both of them into the despairs and cruel hands of destiny and jealowsy. Harry leant down and placed his lips against the cherry ones of the girl, kissing her in a demonstration of love, care, and expectation of what was to happen when the moon layed back on her slumber.

The Lady had chosen that moment to emerge, on her full magesty, bright with the pure, silver light that characterised her, and glowing so intensely day seemed to have returned to the woodlands of the Celtic North. She was in a good mood, for the day had been calm and pleasant. Then she admired all her children as they became wolves, affected by the tender touch of her luminous hand, caring and gentle like a mother's.

Then she saw her favourite one, the cunning, smart Hermione, embraced to the one she admitted to love, and whom she was granted to love equally, except during the nights when the moon was high. She saw their lips fusing into the true, love kiss, and the moon was jealows and angered. Her light grew more intensely, until all perceived was a flash of light so bright that the bats, permanent worshippers of the Lady, became blind.

"You betrayed me Hermione!" her voice boomed angry and loud, like a thunder, and like such did the people consider it, and were bewildered to see a sky so clear, and a moon so bright.

"It was an accident, My Lady!" Hermione excused herself, yet full of terror and fear, her eyes straying to those of her love.

Hary stared at the moon, wild with surprise and a slight fear that tugged at the end of his gentle heart. He stared then at Hermione, inquiring, and worried, terribly worried for her. He placed his hands on her hips, embracing her tightly against his chest, and staring at the moon defiantly, for she could not ignore that he was half elf after all.

"He chould have not been here Hermione! I gave you full permission to love him with one mere condition, and you go disobeying my word!" The moon thundered again with a boming sound that reminded Harry to the fragor of battlefield, the clashing of weapons, the stomping of hooves, the roar of hathred.

"It will never happen again! I swear for all wich is pure!" Hermione called terrified, now shaking like a stag being pursued, one that was cornered and had no hopes of escaping.

Harry braced her tighter, and whispered soothing words of safety at her ear, still defying the moon on doing anything that could split their love, for it was something so pure and strong it could not be split apart.

"I explained you the punishment you will have if you disobeyed me, Hermione!" the moon said with sadness, yet a note of rejoice could be sensed in the air, of a natural pleasure and delight that was not cruel, simply natural.

"No, please! I beg you!" Hermione said collapsing to her knees, and begging with all her might, throwing her dignity aside only for a brief hope of evading the punishment that so correctly, and cruelly at the same time had been imposed to her.

"I'm sorry my little child!" the moon said lastimously, eyeing her from the heavens with a sort of compassion that almost impulsed her to redeem her noble actons, guided only by a true heart.

Then, Hermione collapsed to the floor, and felt the pain suffered so often, yet one that she was used to. This time, however, it hurted terribly, for this pain came not from the body, but from the very depths of her heart and soul.

Harry pounced forward in order to hold her, to comfort her. His eyes were wild with fear. His voice had vanished, abandoned him to leave a silent yell of worry and fear. But all his actions were stopped, frozen like his bones and muscles, yet stopped by the blinding flash of silvery white light that engulfed the woman.

It had never ocurred before, hence Hermione had never been punished before either. This was the key that confined her into her jail of liberty and freedom. One jail that made the whole world belong to her, yet the world she desired, one insignificant gaia escaped her reach. Such was the punished.

As the glow faded, and the light conjured by the moon had vanished, Harry's mouth gapped open, and his eyes widdened with the shock this vision inspired. There she was, laying exhausted on the matress of moist grass, his wolf. Her thick fur the colour of chestnut, her eyes so brown and intelligent, so deep and cunning. Her eyes, Hermione's eyes.

And then Harry understood, filled with a terror and an anguish he had never experience before,one that drained him of all energy and soul, he saw that Hermione was one of the Moon's Children. She was one of the humans that turned to wolves, often thought to have been bloodthirsty and cruel. Now he saw the truth, for the precious being that layed lastimously and depressed before him was such a gentle and noble creature. But she was a wolf.

Deep inside him, Harry knew she would be a wolf forever, for such was the punishment.

Harry recoiled when the wolf's gaze reached him. He was not disgusted, nor terrified or frightened, but simply disenchanted. His memory relieved the terrible feelings of loneliness and proffound sadness when his mother had left for the woodlands, for a city that could not be found by mortal eyes. Yet again was the story repeating itself, this time with the creature he loved more than his very own life.

The wolf whimpered upon seeing his reaction, her eyes saddened, and glittering with a humidity that resembled tears. She thought he repuded her like something filthy and worthless, yet the look that glinted in the depth of Harry's eyes told her otherwise. She knew he suffered, she saw the intense pain that burnt his crushed heart, for it had shattered in million pieces, each of them tearing him from inside like particles of glass. Such was his very own curse, for elven hearts hurted when love was not corresponded, and such was the suffering they often perished. But Harry would not perish, for he had only half elven blood, hence his suffering would be a torture that would last until the end of his days, days that were long and distant.

Harry then turned around, his eyes streaming with tears that were profuse, transparent and flowed freely. He escaped the reality, he escaped the inevitable, he wanted to flee from that terrible destiny his only joy in life had suffered. Leaping agily on the back of his stallion, Stag, the beast galloped off, and was soon lost in the depths of the forest, drowned in a hazy misty of a pale colour tinted with silver.

Hermione then raised her head to the moon, and howled. The first howl any wolf was to give ever in time. It was a mournful cry, a proffound call that was nothing but the terrible pain her heart was feeling, being released to the wind. The howl was terrible, yet beautiful, a saddened song of broken love, of wilderness jailed, of joyous sensations and delighted memories vanished.

It was the howl of the wolf.

Due to such terrible cry, the moon, which had always been full and powerful, lost a piece of herself, and began decreasing in size. Day by day, the moon's sorrow grew such that her size diminished until she vanished, in the depths of her cave to cry herself into a well deserved rest. It caused a conmotion, for the howl and the moon's disappereance seemed to proclaim the end of the world, hence it was only the beginning of the world we know today.

Ever since that day, the moon grows in size into the sky, regaining all her power and strength, all her magesty. Every time the moon is full, wolves of all places join in a chant of lost love, of sorrow and broken hearts. They sing for the memory of the first wolf that ever howled, and every time the moon listens to the mournful chorus, she is reminded of the crime she once commited, when she was young and mindless. Hence every time the wolves howl, the moon looses all the strength regained, and she decreases.

And such is the story of the first wolf that ever howled.

The End.

AN: Ok finished, and I think it's one of the best stories I've ever written. Well, lets see what happens with the Wiccan, which I'm liking greatly too. Well,hope you enjoyed and please, leave a review.


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